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“Eyes on me,” Creedy rasped. And it made sense, did it not? He seemed to take up Quinn’s whole sky more often than not.
“What do we do when we wake?” Quinn mumbled against the other man’s neck, prompting a chuckle that ruffled Quinn’s hair. Prayers before bed.
“Keep both eyes on the sky,” Creedy whispered, lips tracing the shell of Quinn’s ear.
“What do we do when we sleep?”
“Keep one eye on the sky.” Creedy mouthed his way down Quinn’s chest, fingers glancing light touches down his sides.
“What do we do when we see them?” Quinn’s question came out half gasp as Creedy’s hands quested below his waistband.
“Dig hard.” A steady stroke of a roughened palm.
“Dig deep.” A press of slick fingers, gently searching.
“Run for shelter.” Chest to chest now, a push in, stuttered breathing.
“And never look back.” Face buried in neck, scraping teeth, another gasp.
And Quinn pushed down the fear rising in chest, the surge of dread that always came chasing any joy.
He knew he would look back if it was Creedy running behind him. Even if he would doom them both, he would look back.
He would always look back for him.